Your Scars Make You Strong
by TheCosmicBanana
Summary: As Wanda Maximoff seeks solitude to grieve the loss of a close teammate, Doctor Strange steps in to offer comfort and advice. His scars have defined his decisions. And so will hers. One-shot of hurt/comfort. NO SPOILERS FOR ANY UPCOMING MCU FILMS.


Doctor Stephen Strange walked up to the door and rested his hand on the handle. Looking into the darkened room through the glass door, he saw Wanda Maximoff. Her back was straight, her hands were clenched tightly in her lap, and she was staring straight ahead into the wall.

He took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

"Are you okay?" He spoke quietly. Wanda didn't move her head to look at him.

"Clint," was all she said. Her voice was flat.

"Yeah," Strange said. "I heard something about that." And of course – he had been in that same room, standing right beside Wanda, as they watched the tape. The tape of the SHIELD agent's report, saying that Clint Barton had been captured. He was officially a hostage of the Organization.

But for the return of him and countless others, the Organization had set an impossible condition – to wait. To sit back and do absolutely nothing as the faceless agency slowly increased their hostage count day after day. The matter of what to do and how to do it had been in discussion ever since the first hostage had been captured – if they made a move, hundreds would die. And the longer they deliberated, abiding by the Organization's terms, the more difficult it would be to rebel. Hundreds of agents had been captured.

But Clint had been the first Avenger.

"If we try to save him," Wanda said, in the same unsettling monotone, "they are going to kill him."

"I wish. . . I wish there was something we could do," he said hesitantly.

Wanda finally moved her head, and she looked directly at Strange. He felt a chill – her eyes were so haunted, so weary. "I've lost too much already," she said, "to lose him too."

Doctor Strange allowed himself into the room and gently closed the glass door behind him. The white noise of the hall was cut off, sealing them into cool, dark silence. He walked over, the Cloak of Levitation swinging from his shoulders, and sat down right beside her.

He stared ahead for a minute, looking straight at the facing gray wall. When he spoke, his voice was low: "This isn't about Clint."

Wanda looked up sharply. "And you know that?" she snapped. "You didn't know him like I knew him. Clint Barton is the reason I became an Avenger."

"Clint Barton," he countered, " _is_ an Avenger. Whether he's dead or alive, he is an Avenger, and he always will be. He knows how to get out of the worst of situations and you've known him long enough now to know that. This Organization thing, it's. . . yes, it's pretty bad," he admitted. "No one is really sure what to do. But Clint isn't the reason you're here, in this room, right now."

"Don't," she warned.

"Pietro is," he finished.

Wanda sucked in a breath and went silent.

"This new disaster – it's reminding you of another grief you've experienced." He glanced away, avoiding looking at her face. "You lost someone else you loved, and it hurt because you couldn't do a thing about it. You're feeling that same helplessness now."

Wanda's face crinkled, and the tears that had been trembling in her eyes spilled over her cheeks. She sniffed deeply, trying to hold the tears back, and spoke in a trembling voice. "When I had nothing else – no parents, no home – I had Pietro. When I didn't have Pietro, I had Clint. And now –" She broke off and let out a shaky breath.

Doctor Strange closed his hands over hers. "No," he corrected quietly. "When you lost Pietro, you gained a whole new family. The Avengers."

Startled by his unexpected touch, Wanda stopped crying and glanced up at his face. His hands were warm, and she started to feel the warmth spreading from her hands throughout her body. She closed her eyes and took long, steady breaths.

They sat there in silence, for what seemed like forever.

Wanda realized her eyes were open. She found herself staring down at Doctor Strange's hands that enclosed hers.

Pulling out of his hold, Wanda instead took one of his hands in her own. She turned it over so his palm faced the floor, exposing the thick white scars on the back that mirrored his bones beneath. She felt the deep nerve tremors in each of his fingers.

Very lightly, she traced a scar from his wrist to his knuckle. "I've always wondered," she said gently, "if they still hurt."

He didn't look down at his hands – his eyes carefully studied her face. "They're reminders," he said, his voice low. "Of the kind of person I was before, and what I had to go through to become who I am now." He paused. "Every scar still hurts. Just not because of my hands."

She blinked and held her eyes closed for a long time. "I don't want it to hurt, I don't want to miss him anymore," she whispered.

"Wanda." He cupped her face in both hands. "If I've learned anything, it's that scars make you strong." He lifted her chin and wiped away the tears on her cheeks with his thumb. "Wounds make you feel like you're bleeding out. Yes, the pain will break you down. But once you get through it?"

She glanced up at him, just for a moment.

"Then the scars form," he said softly. "And _you_ become _unbreakable_."

Wanda rolled her lips together to keep herself from crying and nodded in response. Letting out a shaky breath, she leaned forward and pulled Strange into a hug.

He returned it, tightly, and kissed the top of her head.

In the quiet, Wanda could feel the raw spot in her heart, and she knew now who it truly was for.

Pietro.

Slowly, she felt her heart form a scar.

Shuddering another deep breath into her lungs, she nodded into Strange's shoulder. "Let's go," she whispered. "We have some avenging to do."

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you very much for reading! This story was a challenge that I wrote for my friend who asked for a story with Stephen Strange (her favorite character) and Scarlet Witch. :) Hope you enjoyed!**


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